


Angel On Their Shoulders

by DebbieF



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Death of a major character / hanky warning, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2016-01-06
Packaged: 2018-05-04 07:01:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5324906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DebbieF/pseuds/DebbieF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is meant to be a Christmas story to mark the beginning of the season.<br/>Though this starts out with a major character's death which is why I rated it Teen and up.<br/>And I'm not quite sure where I'm going to go with this but it will be interesting to say the least.<br/>Also see note at the bottom.</p><p>++++</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_En route to the garrison - present day_

It was a cold winter's day the night before Christmas that found three, not so very wise, Musketeers on their way back home from a routine mission. Their spirits were at their lowest point as a month prior they had been devastated by the loss of the garrison's heart... namely _-_ _d'Artagnan_.

Their pup had been on an assignment with them that had gone terribly wrong. Musketfire was exchanged, rapiers clashed steel on steel, the blood flowed freely but not as much as d'Artagnan's had. Without any thought of his own protection, the boy had willingly thrown himself in front of Aramis to take a shot meant to kill the marksman. The youngest Musketeer had bled out in Athos' arms.

++++

_Flashback_

But before d'Artagnan died he had words for his three older brothers.

Touching Porthos' wet cheek with trembling fingers, d'Artagnan patted it gently. _"Remember... me when you want... to break someone's head... in half," he started to choke on his own blood. "Then do not do... so."_ He felt Porthos kiss the top of his head.

Gripping Aramis' arm loosely, for d'Artagnan had no strength left, he gazed at the sharpshooter that had taught him how to laugh in the face of danger. _"Mis, keep a watch on... these two... for me. I fear for them,"_ his sorrowful look was not lost on Aramis as the older man bent his head and began to weep. _"You, my brother, face things head on with laughter in your heart,"_ he placed a hand on Aramis' chest, _"do not... ever lose that feeling."_

Resting in Athos' arms, d'Artagnan could feel the older man shaking with sobs. _"Athos,"_ he wheezed, for he was losing the ability to breathe well, _"you were my mentor... first,"_ d'Artagnan moved his head over Athos' heart. _"My brother... second and lastly the closest... thing I had to having... another father,"_ d'Artagnan's eyes fluttered shut and he heard Athos' loudly condemning God for taking him away from them. _"Non,"_ he whispered, trying very hard to keep his eyes open. _"Do not vent your anger on God,"_ he smiled as tears began to leak from his eyes. _"As Porthos would say... it was the luck... of the draw."_

++++

_Paris - present day_

Reaching the garrison the inseparables, with heavy hearts, took their mounts to the stables and had the lads there take care of their mounts.

"I'll report to Treville and we'll catch up later for dinner." All around Athos were gay Christmas trimmings that somehow Serge had managed to procure to make the garrison more festive, even in the wake of d'Artagnan's death. When he had confronted the man shortly after the child's passing, Athos' anger was monumental. But Serge had told him that it was the last thing he and d'Artagnan had talked together about. It would seem that d'Artagnan had nominated himself as one of Santa's helpers, and with Serge along for the sleigh ride, they were going to deck the garrison out in its Christmas finest. With the lad gone now old Serge was doing the best he could with a few volunteers but the retired Musketeer convinced Athos that this is what d'Artagnan would have wanted. The boy had been looking forward to doing this. And so Athos relented and watched the garrison come alive without their pup's help.

_Captain Treville's office_

Seeing the haggard looking face of his captain, Athos wondered had Treville always appeared that way or was it now because d'Artagnan was gone from their midst. A pall had been cast over the entire regiment, including the palace for the youngster was well liked. So much so that King Louis wouldn't hear of d'Artagnan being buried among his brothers that had already passed on. His Majesty had told them all that he had always held d'Artagnan in high esteem. And especially since he was the king's champion, King Louis had the lad buried in the royal vaults. A high honor indeed.

Reaching out for the missive Athos had just given him, Treville put it aside. "How are you three dealing with this?"

"Badly," Athos was never one to sugar coat words and he could just hear that little angel on his shoulder, namely d'Artagnan, chiding Athos for being blunt.

"I'm giving you, Aramis and Porthos some leave," Treville gave his lieutenant a hard stare. "I don't want to hear about any fights with Red Guards or carousing til the wee hours. All of you need to heal in your own way but... _peacefully_."

"Not the easiest of orders to follow," Athos grumbled and with a curt nod at his captain, left the room.

++++

_Courtyard_

Busying himself with target practice, Aramis winced as he missed the bullseye four times in a row. _"Mis, come on,"_ Aramis heard the mischievous voice in his head, _"you've never missed the center the entire time I've known you."_ Shaking his head to clear it, Aramis chuckled to himself. It was the first time his aching heart felt lighter since the boy's loss. "I miss you, mon ami. So much so that I'm beginning to imagine that I hear you teasing me." After d'Artagnan's pep talk, Aramis squared his shoulders, took in a deep breath and squinted his one eye shut as he took the shot. This time he hit the target dead center. "Thanks, d'Artagnan," he whispered quietly into the cold breeze.

++++

Porthos chose to lose himself in a quick card game in the barracks, but after several bad hands he was about to cut his losses until he heard a familiar voice chiding him for losing. _"This isn't like you at all, Porthos."_ Thinking perhaps he had had too much wine, Porthos pushed his last full glass aside. Still the voice persisted. _"Go on, show them what you've got and I don't just mean what's hidden up inside your sleeve."_ Listening to the lad's words, Porths' spirits rose and he stayed in the game. In the end he left with all the winnings. "Thanks, whelp." Porthos glanced once to his left thinking to see the child by his shoulder and was disappointed when d'Artagnan was nowhere to be seen.

++++

Even though Treville was giving them leave, Athos needed to work out the anger that had been building up inside him again. Looking around the courtyard he picked his hapless victim. "Rene! Come spar with me!" he hollered out to the younger man who had just come out of the stables. While Athos waited for Rene to join him, he could clearly see trepidation written on his face. "You look like you're attending an execution." Seeing Rene's face fall made Athos realize why the other man appeared that way. "I will endeavor not to run you through," he announced loftily. Honestly, he thought, did Rene really think Athos would use him as a whipping boy?

"Hmmpf! That remains to be seen, Athos," Rene eyed Athos' blade with something akin to fear. Then he shrugged his shoulders, accepted his fate and gave Athos a rueful smile. Backing away a few paces from the older Musketeer, Rene bowed his head and held up his rapier. "Engarde then!"

To say who was more surprised at the outcome would have been a tie. Rene had never seen Athos this sloppy... _ever_. Their lieutenant's heart just wasn't in it, that much was certain.

Knowing he wasn't performing at his best, Athos was about to call a halt when a young voice stunned him. _"What's happened to your form, Athos?"_ He could have sworn he heard d'Artagnan sigh in exasperation with him. _"Pretend it's me on the other end of your blade and begin your dance."_ Tilting his head to the side, closing his eyes, Athos savored the lad's words.

Next thing Rene knew he was fighting for his life, or so it seemed to him, after a furious barrage of thrusts that he was trying to defend against. Then Rene found himself eating dirt as he blinked owlishly up at Athos from his position on the ground. "Was it something I said?"

Wearing a thin smile, Athos reached out a hand to help Rene gain his feet. "Non, it was something and old friend had said," he had a sparkle back in his blue eyes that had been missing since d'Artagnan's passing.

++++

_Royal Palace_

"Thought we was eatin' at Aramis' place like we planned." Porthos wasn't happy to have been summoned to the palace, especially when his stomach began to growl in protest.

"Treville told me that His Majesty had something for the three of us." Athos spoke low since they were now in the royal throne room.

"Dinner?" Aramis quipped lightly, enjoyment of life that had been sadly missing inside of him suddenly reappeared. 

Porthos just moaned while Athos shot Aramis a quelling look.

"Gentlemen," King Louis gave them all his sincerest smile, knowing that with d'Artagnan being gone it had hit his best soldiers the hardest, "as you can see the royal Christmas tree has presents under it and I believe there are three there bearing your names." He waved at the inseparables to approach the beautifully adorned tree where King Louis now stood. Leaning in close he added, "I know _he'd_ want you to have them." Then he left the trio to their own devices.

Sharing curious glances with one another, the three Musketeers were wary and at first didn't know what they should do. None were quite sure what His Majesty's words to them meant. But slowly each of them knelt down to pick up their gift.

Opening his first, Porthos' nimble fingers unwrapped a poignard in a hand-tooled leather sheath. His initials had been carved into the handle as well. Seeing who it was from choked Porthos up so much that he nearly forgot how to breathe.

Aramis then found, to his delight and astonishment, a hat worthy of royalty. The fancy, colorful feathers tucked into the band swayed gently as his long fingers ghosted over them. The giver of such a fine item left him speechless.

Afraid to open his own after seeing the reactions of his brothers, Athos' shaky fingers unwrapped the present. Inside were several volumes of books d'Artagnan had known he had been searching for. What truly stunned him was the rapier that came with it. Made of the finest Toledo steel, it was encased in a leather sheath similar to Porthos' gift. Still in shock, Athos nearly missed the letter that was tucked into one of the books. Taking it out he began to read...

_Though I'm not with you right now, and only in spirit, my wish is that these gifts I left for you lot will ease your sore hearts. I know you, Aramis and Porthos will be sad for a time, but I'm hoping my presents will make you think of me fondly and all our good times we had together. And, Athos, just look for me over your shoulder and I'll be right there. Perhaps sooner than you think."_

Not even trying to hide his tears, Athos gave over to them as they fell like a waterfall. He handed the now tear-stained letter over to Aramis to pour over it with Porthos reading it over the other man's shoulder.

"How... how," Porthos stuttered, "could the whelp 'ave known?" he asked in wonder.

"That he wouldn't be here?" Aramis made the sign of the cross and appeared pensive, contemplating the matter. "I'm afraid to guess."

"Premonition," Athos muttered softly seeing the others look back at him oddly.

“Funny thing,” Aramis exchanged still bewildered looks with his brothers, “I’ve been hearing d’Artagnan inside my head for the better part of the day,” his lips twitched. “He was kicking my butt for not paying attention to my shooting."

“Me too. Gave me 'ell for playing cards poorly,” Porthos turned to Athos like he held all the answers.

“I as well,” but Athos didn't elaborate for his brothers what d'Artagnan had to say about his sword work. Frowning, Athos caught Aramis’ eye. “You don’t believe...,” he trailed off at Aramis’ knowing smirk.

“Stranger things have happened, mon ami,” Aramis winked.

“But what did the kid mean by his last remark in that letter?” Porthos lovingly turned the poignard in his hands over and over admiring its craftsmanship.

“Anyone for church?” Aramis removed his old hat and replaced it with his charming new one. “I feel the need to be closer to where d’Artagnan is.”

The other two men nodded their heads in agreement and, after graciously thanking the king, all three Musketeers left the palace with Aramis herding them toward the Church of Saint-Germain l’Auxerrois.

While observing his men leave, Treville’s thoughtful gaze rested on his own, as yet, unopened gift. His eyes strayed to the note that was attached to his present. That too he had not touched. Remembering something that King Louis had told him at d’Artagnan’s funeral, Treville shivered despite the warmth of the room. His Majesty believed a soul like their youngest’s wasn’t one to be idle, and it amused the monarch to believe d’Artagnan would watch over them all intervening where he could. Treville wondered if the king had passed that thought along to Richelieu. Knowing how the cardinal's mind worked, Richelieu would tactfully tell King Louis that it was blasphemous to say such a thing. Praying that the inseparables find peace not only from whatever was in that letter but the gifts d’Artagnan had left them, Treville walked back over to the dais and joined the king.

++++

_Note_ :

Church of Saint-Germain l’Auxerrois is on one side of the Louvre with Tuileries Gardens being on the other. I had mentioned this same church in my other story, Den of Thievery and Murder.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See note at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Still Christmas Eve, nearing midnight - Athos' apartments_

Pondering over their unexpected Christmas presents, courtesy of their now deceased pup, the inseparables sat sipping some Anjou wine Athos had been saving for a special occasion such as this. Even though they were missing their youngest terribly, the men were nice and cozy sitting in front of the warmth of the fireplace; its dancing flames heated up the room nicely.

"The kid must 'ave known 'e wouldn't be with us at Christmas," Porthos dark eyes grew very sad as he gently fingered his poignard.

Twirling his new hat in his hands, Aramis' thoughts were pensive. "Oui, he knew all right."

Athos simply sat in his chair staring at the gift of books that were stacked on his table. The rapier he put in a place of honor above the mantle until such time he needed to use it. "I miss him," Athos admitted to his brothers. "I miss him so damn much it hurts to breathe!"

Instantly getting up from their chairs, both Porthos and Aramis stood on either side of their friend. Their hands anchored on Athos' shoulders, both men bowed their heads and grieved along with their leader.

++++

_Captain Treville's office_

Pouring himself a healthy dose of whiskey, Treville sat down at his desk. His eyes rested on the letter d'Artagnan left him along with the gift the boy had given him. He had found out that the handcarved rack with the fleur-de-leis design engraved on it had been done by the lad himself. Treville would now be able to hang his rapiers and other weapons from it.

The letter really hadn't been much of a surprise for him. Basically the boy had charged Treville with keeping Athos, Porthos and Aramis in line. To make sure they didn't get themselves killed from outright sloppiness. D'Artagnan knew that his death would be cause of much sorrow for those three.

Interrupted from his musings by a thud at his door, Treville called out, "Entre!" Seeing that it was Rene, he retrieved another empty glass and filled it with a fingerful of whiskey. Holding it out to the younger man, he took in Rene's surprise. "Tis Christmas Eve, Rene," Treville smiled. "Drink up."

After finishing his drink, Rene sat down, as the captain was indicating for him to take a chair. "I only wanted to wish you the best of the season, sir."

"I figured as much," Treville responded sadly. He could see that same feeling reflected in the younger Musketeer's face. "You miss d'Artagnan as well."

"Oui," Rene's eyes clouded over with pain. "I am slightly older than d'Aragnan, but we bonded over several missions together. We had plans for later on Christmas day," he stared past Treville's shoulders seeing images of what might have been.

"His Majesty believes that d'Artagnan is still here with us in spirit," Treville snorted. "I have heard some stories."

"I do not believe them to be just stories," Rene countered with an ironic look. "There was a nasty spill King Louis was about to make down the staircase shortly after d'Artagan's passing. I heard say that the king swears he felt a pair of strong hands on his shoulders preventing him from taking a tumble."

"Mmmmm," Treville nodded. "Henri's mount went crazy around that time and no one could get near him. I wasn't there but was later told that at least a dozen men feared Henri was about to be thrown and break his neck when suddenly the horse calmed down without a hand touching him."

"I was there when it happened," Rene affirmed. "Henri's horse appeared to be looking at something none of us could see," he shrugged. "Our d'Artagnan had quite a way with the horses."

"If you believe it was him," Treville arched a brow. "I'm a man who has to see it to believe it I'm afraid."

Standing back up, Rene grinned. "Still it does make you wonder about angels and the such."

"If God granted that status to anyone," Treville sighed deeply, "d'Artagnan certainly qualified with his actions in saving Aramis that dreadful day." He could tell his words dampened Rene's spirits at reminding him how his brother had died. Gruffly he wished the lad well and bid him a goodnight.

++++

_Notre-Dame de Paris a/k/a Notre-Dame Cathedral_

Midnight mass had come and gone and it was now nearly four a.m. Since it had been Christmas Eve the crowds that had attended the services had dispersed. Even the busy Paris streets that normally were littered with prostitutes and other inebriated Parisians until the wee hours of the morning had seeked their beds early.

So if a derelict or two were still hanging about Notre-Dame at that time of the morning, the sudden bright glow that surrounded the cathedral was put down to their drunken state.

++++

_Seven a.m. in the morning - Captain Treville's office_

Waking up, Treville did several stretches to limber himself up. He went over to a stand that held a bowl of clean water and did his morning ablutions.

Running a towel over his face, he threw it over his shoulder when finished. Facing the direction of the extra bunk in his office, Treville paused for a second or two. Slowly and silently he moved over to the rack that d'Artagnan had made him and Treville removed one of his rapiers from it.

Carefully approaching the bunk, Treville eyed the lump that lied in the middle of it. Whatever it was, it was definitely moving. Extending his arm out toward it, he gave said _lump_ a gentle poke or two with his sword. For all he knew an animal had crawled into his office and made a warm nest for itself under the blankets.

Sitting bolt upright, a brown, tousled haired boy of approximately eight or nine years of age stared wide eyed back at him. Blankets were bunched up all around him as he shook his head to clear it of cobwebs that had gathered. Seeing who it was that had disturbed his slumber, the child gave the older man a toothy grin. "Hello, Captain."

Rapier slipping from his grasp, Treville fell to his knees as if in prayer. It couldn't be real he thought. His imagination was playing tricks on him. Either that or it was that last glass of whiskey he had just consumed. Squeezing his eyes tightly shut, Treville slowly opened them back up again. "You're still there," he muttered to himself. Stunned, now at a loss to utter anything else, Treville whispered one word... " _D'Artagnan_."

++++

_Notes:_

Notre-Dame de Paris is French for _Our Lady of Paris_ , also known as Notre-Dame Cathedral or simply Notre-Dame.


	3. Chapter 3

_Christmas morning - same captain's office_

Still on his knees, staring at what he could only assume was clearly a figment of his own imagination, Treville stood up on shaky legs. "Perhaps I haven't actually awakened yet and am in the midst of a dream... or a nightmare," he muttered out loud to himself, paying no heed to the amused boy watching him.

"Tis me, sir... d'Artagnan." He threw off his layers of blankets and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. The overlong nightshirt he had borrowed from the captain's drawers dwarfed his slight frame and d'Artagnan had to keep hitching it up with every step he took. When he finally reached Captain Treville's side he craned his neck, looking up into the older man's white face.

A shudder went up and down his spine when Treville studied the innocent looking urchin. "How can this be?" he reached out with a not quite steady hand to place it on top of the boy's silky hair. It was long, the lad's hair reached the youngster's shoulders curly gently, but soft to the touch. Brushing d'Artagan's bangs away so Treville could get a really good look at him, a rush of emotions threatened to bring him down again as tears gathered in his eyes. Clutching the young boy to him, Treville held him tightly while those tears spilled down his face. "Are you an angel then come to watch over us all?"

Snorting softly, d'Artagnan gave the captain a cheeky grin. Turning around, he pointed to his back. "Do you see any wings attached there?"

Releasing his hold, Treville was amused despite these strange developments and let d'Artagnan step away from him. "Let us go sit on the bed while I listen to your story, eh?"

Shrugging slim shoulders, d'Artagnan bit his lip. "Not much to tell really," he mumbled quietly. "I died saving Aramis and was granted a boon," he waved a hand at his own body. "And now I'm back home."

"I do not understand why God, in his infinite wisdom and mercy, decided to return you to us as a small boy." Treville was overcome by this miracle that was granted to d'Artagnan but was puzzled over it as well.

"Makes sense when you think about it," d'Artagnan raised a brow.

"It does?" Treville ran a hand down the side of his face. "Perhaps to you but none of this makes any sense to me." Seeing the droop to the lad's shoulders, he reached out to hug the boy close. "Doesn't mean that I'm not happy to have you back."

Wiping his eyes and trying to stifle his sniffles, d'Artagnan smiled gratefully. "Me too."

"Now let's think logically about all of this if we can," Treville couldn't keep his eyes off d'Artagnan and doubted he'd stop any time soon. This was going to take some time to get over.

"I couldn't return any other way when you think upon it," d'Artagnan offered. "My mortal body was gone."

"Very true," Treville agreed. "So God decided it was best to return you as the rapscallion I used to watch learn how to handle a sword at Alexandre's knee."

"Don't forget you played a large role in that as well," d'Artagnan shyly reminded the captain.

"Oh how I remember those days, mon garcon," Treville laughed.

"One good thing in coming back like this is that no one will recognize me," d'Artagnan plucked at the too large nightshirt. "Resolves having to dodge awkward questions."

"I'll have to round up some suitable clothing for you first before we go out and about." Treville thought perhaps the parents of their stable boy Gerard had a spare outfit to lend him until Treville could get into town to purchase some.

Thinking more on the problem of d'Artagnan, Treville snapped his fingers making the youngster start in surprise. "We're going to have bigger issues to deal with once you get older though."

"I know what you're concerned about," d'Artagnan drew up his legs and sat crosslegged on the bed. "Most of the Musketeers here are older and by the time I've reached the age of sixteen or say seventeen they may no longer be around, for one reason or the other," he sighed. "The few younger ones here I barely know and haven't worked with any of them in the past. So I doubt there would be any worries on that score either."

Understanding the silent message the child was trying to convey about the older Musketeers in his regiment, Treville nodded. He knew the hazards of being a soldier and that losing ones' life, in service of the king, was always a possibility. "What of Their Majesties?"

A sad smile passed over d'Artagnan's face. "We won't have to worry about that either." Seeing shock register on the captain's face, he quickly added, "I'll deal with Her Majesty when that time comes. I think you'll find Queen Anne will have no trouble accepting the truth."

Still three important matters needed to be taken into consideration - _Athos_... _Porthos_... and _Aramis_. "What of the inseparables?"

"They will have to be told the truth," d'Artagnan chuckled. "After all they'll have to train me all over again."

"Somehow I doubt you've not retained some smattering of knowledge in what your father and I taught you at the age you are at present."

Tilting his head to the side, d'Artagnan thought about it for all of a second. "You may be right."

"First things first," Treville announced happily, "clothes."

++++

_Much later in the day - Porthos' apartments_

Under other circumstances the trio would have celebrated Christmas day at the finest inn in Paris but today they were missing their fourth and decided to just gather at Porthos'. Aramis had gone out to get their dinner and had just arrived back. Athos, of course, supplied the wine.

A knock upon the door interrupted the beginnings of their meal. When Porthos went to open it he was surprised to see Captain Treville standing there. Treville's hand rested on top of a small shoulder belonging to a slim lad that seemed oddly familiar somehow to Porthos. Waving them both inside he closed the door. "Merry Christmas, sir."

"And to you as well, Porthos," Treville smiled, nodding his head at the other two men sitting around the table. "Sorry to disturb you, but I've unexpectedly been landed with my cousin's child for the holidays." He and d'Artagnan decided upon this subterfuge until the boy figured out how to broach the subject of his own resurrection. "Thought I'd stop to introduce him to a few of my men."

"Have you eaten yet?" Athos asked. "We have more than enough to share."

Catching d'Artagnan's eye, Treville noted the sparkle in them. "Not as yet."

"Come and join us then," Porthos ushered both of them to the table.

After grabbing two extra chairs for their guests, Aramis sat back down. Porthos nudged his shoulder and leaned in to whisper in his ear.

"Kid reminds me of someone," Porthos studied the quiet lad who was situated beside Athos.

"He has the look of a Gascon like our captain," Aramis noted. "Nothing peculiar there."

"Non," Porthos shook his head. "It's not that. Somethin' else."

Listening to Porthos' words, this time it was Athos that leaned in toward the larger man and spoke quietly. "This _something else_ can wait until our stomachs are full," Athos amused gaze accidentally collided with that of the equally amused boy, making Athos wonder what what thoughts were running through the lad's mind. "What name do you go by?"

"Alex," d'Artagnan swiftly responded, reaching out for a juicy turkey leg as he began to eat with gusto.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, d'Artagnan's not ready to put the inseparables into the picture yet. The explanation for Treville and Alex's relationship was kindly suggested to me by one of my writing pals - Elenduen. Thanks, mon ami!
> 
> ++++

_Christmas Day, late afternoon - Porthos' apartments_

With full bellies, the inseparables found themselves enjoying the warmth of the fireplace once more as they all arranged their chairs around it. Listening to Captain Treville regale them with stories of Christmas in Gascony, they were content for the most part. Still missing their fourth tremendously though.

Alex, especially brought unexpected joy to what could have been a somber affair. The child's innocent delight, as Treville reminded the lad of some mischief or other Alex had gotten into at Christmastime, brought smiles to all the inseparable's faces.

"Sir," Aramis spoke up, his gaze rested on the young boy, "how is it you two are related, if you don't mind my asking?"

He knew d'Artagnan wasn't ready to tell his brothers the truth yet. So Treville drummed up a story which, as he thought upon it, would do very well for later on if anyone else got curious. "One of my younger cousins, Eloise, married a younger cousin related to my good friend Alexandre d'Artagnan, God rest his soul."

"D'Artagnan's pere," Athos murmured quietly, his eyes grew sad again as he stared into the flames dancing in the fireplace. Memories of their missing Gascon pained him and always would.

"Oui," Treville agreed and reached out to ruffle d'Artagnan's hair. The child's pout, combined with the long bangs hiding his chocolate brown orbs, made him want to pick the lad up and give him a hug.

"What is your father's name, lad," Porthos asked, feeling slightly drowsy from their meal but not drowsy enough to curb his curiosity.

Making it up on the fly as Captain Treville had done, d'Artagnan said the first thing that popped into his head. "Bernard." Then he realized why that name came so easily to him. When d'Artagnan was a child, the first time around, he had a pet donkey on the farm which his papa had named _Bernard_.

"It's easy to assume your parents named you after Alexandre d'Artagnan." Athos looked down into his glass of wine, swirling the red liquid around.

Nodding his head, d'Artagnan reached out for some fresh fruit that was in a basket. "So I was told. Tis a shame I never got to meet my namesake."

"He talks with intelligence for one so young," humor lit Aramis' face. "Perhaps some of that could rub off on you, mon ami." He directed his remark to Porthos as the huge Musketeer was clearly disgruntled.

"Eh... what?" Porthos barked, nearly choking on the wine he had just consumed. "I think Mis here's lost a few of them marbles he always claims ta have." Hearing Alex' gay peels of laughter again warmed Porthos' sore heart. He missed d'Artagnan so much. They all did. His gaze fell briefly on Athos and knew the deep pain his friend tried to hide.

"You're assuming he had any to begin with," Athos remarked dryly with an arch of his brow. When the lad began giggling, Athos couldn't contain his mirth. "Tis good to hear the sound of innocence again," his voice faded away as his blue eyes lost their sparkle, thinking of another's gay laughter lost to him forever.

Wiping his eyes, d'Artagnan noted Aramis' red face and wished he could comment on it but figured he best not under the circumstances. No use letting the cat out of the bag too early.

Affronted, Aramis pierced his brothers with a cool look that spoke of retribution to come. Standing up he faced the captain. "Would you care for more wine?"

"Don't mind if I do," Treville smiled gratefully. "Alex here may have to prop me up on the way back home."

Giggling again, d'Artagnan shook his head. "That would indeed be a sight."

"Ya know at least I'm not goin' crazy," Porthos pointed out. "I kept thinkin' the kid looked familiar ta me. Now after hearing the captain explain things it goes a long way in knowin' why Alex resembled our pup," he sighed deeply, "at least ta me." Seeing his brothers silently agree with him, Porthos winked at the child.

Thinking he'd keep playing the innocent, d'Artagnan pouted again as he stared up into Treville's dancing eyes. "Why would Porthos compare me to a chiot?"

"Mon Dieu!" Aramis gasped. "Non, non, Alex, the big buffoon was referring to our dear friend we've recently lost."

"Charles d'Artagnan," Athos uttered the young Musketeer's name almost reverently.

"Oh, oui," d'Artagnan glanced solemnly at the inseparables. "My parents have spoken of him to me," he shyly smiled. "Everyone back home in Gascony was proud to hear that d'Artagnan had become a King's Musketeer." D'Artagnan knew he'd pay for boasting of himself later but this was too good an opportunity to pass up.

"Tis a shame you never got to know him, lad," Athos said. "D'Artagnan was a very gifted young man."

Before d'Artagnan could think upon a reply, Captain Treville stood up. Glancing at the child he held out his hand and knew d'Artagnan understood the unspoken message as the boy too got up from his chair to join him. Placing an arm across the lad's shoulder Treville pulled d'Artagnan into his side. "Gents, this has turned out to be an improvement on what I thought my day was going to turn out to be," he chuckled at the face d'Artagnan pulled.

"I bet," Porthos' dark eyes twinkled. Looking at the youngster he rubbed at his beard. "Alex, ya gonna be stayin' awhile?"

"As I understand it," Treville interrupted before d'Artagnan put a spoke into the works, "Alex is staying with me indefinitely." 

"Sir?" Athos thought perhaps he misunderstood the captain's words.

"Alex' parents are going to be abroad for some time," Treville added for their benefit. "Bernard's job takes him out of the country for long periods at a time. Eloise had finally decided to accompany him on his travels."

"And you were the obvious candidate picked to entertain Alex," Aramis stated somewhat sarcastically. "A Captain of the Musketeers?"

Treville shot the marksman a perturbed look. "I know my rank very well, Aramis," putting the soldier back into his place.

"Where will the lad be staying?" Athos pondered the strange position their captain has now been put in and something didn't add up.

"My house of course," Treville replied testily. "Though from time to time you lot will be seeing Alex around the garrison."

Taking his cue from the captain, d'Artagnan knew they should be leaving now. "Messieurs, it has been a pleasure meeting all of you," he dipped his head slightly. "I hope we see each other again very soon."

The inseparables responded in kind and waited until their guests had departed.

"Did either of you buy into any of that?" Aramis went to the window to observe Treville and Alex heading back towards the garrison.

"Part of it, aye," Porthos grunted.

Huffing, Aramis poked his brother in the chest with a finger. "Which part, mon frere?"

"That the kid's somehow related to d'Artagnan," Porthos then locked eyes with Athos.

"Things aren't always as they appear," Athos shifted his gaze from Porthos to Aramis. "Perhaps our time could be well spent in getting to know young Alex."

"Perfect!" Aramis glared at the older man. "Children at that age can be dangerous."

Laughing loudly, Porthos heartily slapped the sharpshooter's back. "What cha' afraid of? That Alex will out shoot ya?" 

Grabbing his hat from the table, Aramis hit Porthos with it. "Out shoot me," he cried in mock outrage. "I worry about you at times, I really do."

"Tis you should worry," Porthos growled. "Ya called me a _buffoon_. No one does that and gets away with it."

"Gentlemen," Athos cleared his throat before the situation between his two brothers turned into a Christmas brawl, " _Dangerous_ or not," Athos drawled, "something's afoot."


	5. Chapter 5

_Still Christmas day, late evening - Captain Treville's house on the outskirts of Paris_

Sitting on the edge of d'Artagnan's bed, Treville shook his head ruefully at the very young Gascon. "We've now established you're imaginary parents if anyone asks questions," he patted the lad's legs underneath all the covers. "But how long are you going to keep your brothers in the dark, eh?"

Mulling it over, d'Artagnan's sleepy eyes trained on the captain's concerned expression. Yawning hugely he knuckled his eyes, hearing Treville's soft laughter d'Artagnan blinked them open wide.

"Never mind," Treville chuckled. "you're too tired to even think straight."

Turning onto his side, d'Artagnan mumbled into the covers, "Won't be long. Don't want them to hurt any longer than necessary."

Watching the boy lose his battle with Morpheus, Treville thought perhaps that the inseparables may end up doing a little snooping of their own before the lad divulged his secret. He didn't feel they entirely bought their cover story today.

Standing up, Treville leaned down to press a gentle kiss on d'Artagnan's forehead. "Sleep well, child," he whispered.

++++

_Next day, late morning - Garrison courtyard_

Since it was still the Christmas holiday, duties around the garrison were light. Captain Treville, as well as the king, believed that his men deserved to spend their free time in any manner that pleased them. So it came as no surprise to Treville that a few of his Musketeers used the morning for a quick training session.

Young d'Artagnan observed all the activity from the safety of Treville's balcony. Occasionally waving at the inseparables whenever they acknowledged him. Feeling the captain's presence beside him, d'Artagnan asked, "Is it fine with you if I go down there."

"Closer to the action eh, lad?" Treville ruffled the boy's soft hair. "Just don't get into any trouble." Why he gave that warning Treville never knew. For in the past all d'Artagnan ever needed was for trouble to attach itself to him. No sooner than he had given his blessing, d'Artagnan raced down the steps to sit on a bench not far off from where Athos was sparring with Antoine. "I have to remember to take d'Artagnan to get a haircut. How he sees through those bangs is anyones guess," he mumbled to himself.

++++

As Antoine bowed to the older man after his defeat he pointed his rapier at someone. "It appears we have gained a small audience."

Loooking over his shoulder, Athos couldn't hide the smile that lit his features. "Tis only Alex come to watch."

"Alex?" Antoine didn't remember seeing the boy around the garrison before.

"A relation of Treville's come to stay with him for a time," Athos returned his gaze back on Antoine, "and us it would seem." Tapping his blade against the other man's Athos added, 'Work on those maneuvers and we'll try again on the morrow."

"I'll do my best," Antoine returned and observed the older Musketeer make his way over to the child.

++++

By the time Athos came over, Alex had been joined by Porthos and Aramis.

"Athos," Aramis waved his brother closer, "you need to hear this."

"Yeah," Porthos laughed. "This here youngin' told us he'll be a Musketeer one day."

"Not _if_ mind you," Aramis put in with a chuckle of his own. "Alex has definite plans for his future."

"And it involves one of these," Porthos tapped his own pauldron proudly.

Staring at the youthful features of the small Gascon, Athos' eyes narrowed. 'You have quite a way to grow into that pauldron."

"I'm nine years of age," d'Artagnan announced, puffing out his chest. "I have handled a sword before," he snorted, "and quite well actually," he tacked on for good measure.

Surprise was clearly etched on the three Musketeer's faces. Not so much at hearing that this child had held a sword but the solid conviction that lay behind the lad's words that Alex could wield it with some talent.

As one, Porthos and Aramis turned and trained their eyes expectantly on Athos. Hearing their friend sigh deeply both men grinned as they observed Athos tap Alex on the child's slim shoulder.

Silently indicating that he wanted Alex to follow him, Athos picked up a spare sword that was laying on the bench and handed it to the youngster.

Aramis poked Porthos in the side, whispering in his ear, "Want to lay a small wager, mon ami?"

Staring at Aramis as if the marksman had grown two heads, Porthos nearly busted a gut laughing, slapping his brother on the back so hard that Aramis nearly tipped over. "What kind of lame assed bet would that be? Alex is a kid not a season soldier."

Leaning against a post, Aramis pushed his hat back from his head. "I have a feeling Alex will astound us all."

"That thar feelin' goin' ta line your pockets enough ta pay me when the whelp gets trounced?" Porthos began to think Aramis was a bit touched in the head.

Quietly sniffing in disdain, Aramis ignored his friend's words as he began to watch Athos work with the boy.

Carefully Athos put Alex through some basic blade work. It was to his amazement, and he was sure Aramis' and Porthos' as well, that Alex eventually gained the upperhand and dislodged Athos' blade from his hand.

Standing there dumbfounded, Athos glanced at his empty hand. His rapier laid on the ground off to the side. The smug expression the young Gascon wore was so much like his d'Artagnan's that for a moment Athos' heart stopped. "That can't be possible," he mumbled to himself.

"Oy!" Porthos exclaimed in shock. "Mis did ya see what the kid just did?"

"Hard not to miss it," Aramis replied albeit unsteadly. "That was a trick only d'Artagnan had ever been able to pull off," a shiver went up and down along his spine.

"Think Athos is just as stunned?" Porthos observed their leader slowly bend down to pick up his sword. Only to stare at it like he had never seen it before. Tilting his head, Athos studied Alex curiously. "Well played."

Smiling, d'Artagnan nodded. "I got lucky."

"I am not so sure about that," Athos kept his pace the same as the child beside him as they both walked over to where Aramis and Porthos waited.

"Athos, me thinks you're losing your touch," Aramis chortled, for he could think of no other reason that Alex could have disarmed his friend so easily.

Porthos got up close pretending to inspect Athos' hair until Athos shoved him away, glowering at him. "May I ask what your problem is?"

"Just checkin' for grey hairs is all," Porthos winked at Alex. "Cuz that's a sure sign you're gettin' older and may explain away the slight slip up that just happened."

"Do you have to come up with excuses for what took place?" d'Artagnan innocently asked.

Aramis and Porthos gazed blankly at each other, shrugged and turned to stare at the boy. Simultaneously they replied, "Oui."

Amused, Alex glanced up at Athos who remained silent on the matter but had a look in his blue eyes that unsettled him, making his smile quickly fade away. "I'm sorry but Athos simply underestimated my abilities," he crossed his arms and then rolled his eyes. "Oh come on, you lot!" d'Artagnan laughed. "My pere has some skill with a blade and he's been teaching me in his spare time."

"The whelp's havin' us on," Porthos lowered his voice so only Aramis and Athos could hear him.

"Mmmmm," Aramis hummed quietly.

"He has the look of our dearly missed youngest and the talent with a sword of one older than his years," Athos said for his brothers benefit. "And nearly everytime I catch the boy looking our way I get the distinct feeling Alex is poking fun at us."

"Get it off your chest, man. What are ya tryin' ta say?" Porthos noted Athos pause and turn to look at him, uncertainty written on his features.

"I don't believe even Athos knows," Aramis offered instead for it appeared words had momentarily escaped their leader.

Interrupting the inseparables, d'Artagnan jerked his head toward Captain Treville's office. "I'll be back. A few things I have to do," then d'Artagnan ran off.

Stepping up to Athos' still figure as he watched the boy depart, Aramis placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, Porthos doing likewise on Athos' other side.

"I feel like someone just stepped on my grave," Athos leaned into his brother's touch, knowing he was going to need it.

Squeezing Athos' shoulder in support Porthos whispered, "I'm gettin' that same feelin' myself, mon frere."

"Perhaps a few minutes in the chapel will help clear up our obviously confused thoughts," Aramis suggested. "After all most of us are on light duties for the Christmas season, and none of us have anything really important that needs tending."

"You go, Aramis," Athos urged. "Take Porthos along."

Hooking his fingers into his belt, Porthos studied Athos closely. Usually he could read the older man like a book. But this time his friend had slammed that book shut tightly so he couldn't tell what thoughts roamed through Athos' mind. "What are ya goin' ta be doin' in the meantime?"

"And don't tell us you're going to be looking for your soul in a bottle," Aramis grew frustrated with Athos at times. "D'Artagnan wouldn't have wanted that for you."

Closing his eyes shut with the pain of hearing his sweet boy's name mentioned, Athos shook his head. "Non, I have no intention of drowning my sorrows in that manner." Shifting his gaze toward the captain's office, Athos then regarded his brothers shrewdly. "I feel Treville and I are overdue for a long talk."

As they watched Athos leave them, Aramis and Porthos wished they could accompany their brother but since they hadn't been invited along to do so both men headed for the garrison chapel and hopefully peace for their souls.


	6. Chapter 6

_Same day, late morning - Captain Treville's office_

While Aramis and Porthos sought solace for their souls inside the garrison chapel, Athos was determined to get some straight answers from Treville. Rapping on the door Athos didn't wait for the captain to bark out the command to enter.

Knowing it was coming, just not sure when, Captain Treville wasn't the least amazed to see his lieutenant stride inside. Pushing a sheaf of papers to one side of his desk Treville folded his hands and waited for the interrogation to begin, or the axe to fall, at this point he didn't know which would be more painful. "Take a seat, Athos."

Automatically obeying, Athos back was rigid as he found himself sitting opposite Treville. The obvious question that had been burning on his tongue demanding to be asked was, "Who... is... Alex?" And speaking of the boy, Athos wondered where the child was because moments before he had seen the lad disappear into the captain's office.

Pretending he didn't understand, Treville simply said, "I thought we had that cleared up last eve."

"Ah," Athos held up one finger," that's the thing, sir. We have more questions than answers."

"Do go on," Treville dryly uttered, impatiently tapping his fingers on the desk.

"First is the fact that suddenly there is this boy, Alex, in our midst. When never had you mentioned the relationship before."

Interrupting, Treville cleared his throat. "When d'Artagnan settled into garrison life I didn't want to state our family ties for fear others would think I would favor the lad over other recruits," he ran a hand through what thinning hair remained on his head. Considering circumstances of late, Treville wouldn't be surprised to wake up one morning to discover he went bald. "Hence why I never mentioned how my family and d'Artagnan's were connected from marriages made on both sides of our family."

Knowing what he heard sounded plausible some doubt remained. Athos absently nodded his head thoughtfully before putting forth his next question. "Aramis already remarked upon how intelligent Alex talks for a boy of only nine," his brow arched high.

"The child's always been sharp as a tack," Treville agreed. "Runs in my side of the family of course," he smirked, pleased to see a slow smile begin growing on Athos' severe features.

His smile quickly faded away as Athos added, "Then there is what just happened now."

Dieu! Treville said silently to himself. What had d'Artagnan gotten up to now? That nervous breakdown he was worried about before may yet happen if that boy didn't hurry up and tell his brothers the truth. "Amuse me," Treville once again pretended indifference and prayed he pulled it off convincingly enough.

"Alex boasted he was more than competent with a blade," Athos noted his captain didn't flicker even an eyelid over his words so far, "so I put him to the test. Imagine my surprise when Alex pulled a maneuver on me that only d'Artagnan had ever accomplished resulting in me losing my rapier."

"Did the lad tell you how he managed to catch the best swordsman in France off guard?" Treville didn't want to make up another tale until he knew exactly what d'Artagnan had told Athos and the others. That grave kept getting deeper and deeper he and the boy were digging together.

"That his pere had been instructing him."

More relaxed now than he had been when Athos first stepped into his office, Treville grinned. "I had a hand in that as well. Which goes a long way in explaining why d'Artagnan and Alex both were the only ones able to make you do such an unheard of thing."

"So you're saying that d'Artagnan learned that trick from yourself?" Athos was stunned as d'Artagnan had never alluded as to how he was able to relieve Athos of his sword in the way he had.

"Myself and Alexandre, oui," Treville offered, gazing at his lieutenant over his steepled fingers.

Slowly coming to his feet, Athos gave Treville a curt nod, ready to depart.

"Come, Athos," Treville tilted his head to the side, "was that all you came to ask?" Please let that be all.

"Things have been plaguing me ever since Alex' arrival and his slight resemblance to d'Artagnan," he shrugged. "Perhaps I am finally losing my sanity after our Gascon's passing. It just took this long to catch up to me." He quickly left the office before the captain thought upon replacing him as his lieutenant. With the way he had been feeling lately, perhaps that wouldn't be a bad thing.

"Join the club," Treville muttered, watching Athos walk out the door.

++++

As he hit the bottom of the steps, Athos noted Porthos and Aramis were casually leaning against the railings waiting for him. "How was your time in the chapel?"

"I feel more at peace," Aramis still fingered the cross that rested in his hands.

"I'm not sure what I felt," Porthos answered honestly with a slight shrug of one shoulder.

"How did it go up there?" Aramis pointed to the captain's office.

"Truthfully," Athos grimaced. "I came out having even more questions about Alex. Though I did discover that Treville had tutored both d'Artagnan and the boy on that particular move Alex performed out here earlier."

"Then you've gotten your answers." Aramis didn't understand the frown marring the older man's face.

"Not as far as I'm concerned," Athos ground out. Craning his neck to see around the courtyard, Athos looked for a small figure darting about. "I expected Alex to have been with the captain as that was where I saw him last headed but he was not there."

Porthos exchanged a funny look with Aramis and huffed in laughter. "Kid's part magician then and pulled a disappearin' act on ya."

"Another thing to add to my ever growing list, eh?" Athos quietly murmured.

"Gentlemen," came a voice out of nowhere, making the inseparables all whirl around, swords drawn.

Stepping back Alex eyed his friends comically, holding out both hands in surrender. "I say," he chuckled, "three grown men against one small boy," he tsked merrily. "Whatever would people think?"

"Aye, whelp," Porthos said gruffly, "ya startled us ye did."

Re-sheathing his rapier, Aramis agreed. "I'll second that."

Glancing over at Athos' still figure, d'Artagnan looked his mentor straight in the eye waiting for the other man to add something to that as well. So when Athos remained silent d'Artagnan walked over to him and took his brother's much larger hand in his own. Looking up into Athos' face, d'Artagnan heaved a heavy sigh. Tugging on the calloused hand he urged, "Come with me. I have something to tell you."

Not resisting the child's pull, Athos observed his other two friends remaining behind. "What of them, Alex?"

"All of you need to hear my words," d'Artagnan kept pulling Athos by the hand, clear out of the garrison until he arrived at his destination... _Athos' apartments_.

"How come you to know where I live?" Athos' hand slipped out of the youngster's hold. "Captain Treville only took you over to Porthos' place so far."

Smiling sadly, d'Artagnan crossed his arms while observing Athos' confusion. "There's quite a lot I do _know_ , Athos." His gaze roamed over his mentor's and that of Aramis' and Porthos' curious faces. "About all of you, mon freres."


	7. Finale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yup! This is the finale folks. Might want a tissue handy.
> 
> ++++

_Athos’ apartments_

Having entered Athos’ home, all the inseparables were quite confused as they removed their hats and doublets. Athos went to retrieve some glasses and a bottle of wine, juice for the boy of course, and then they all gathered to sit around a small table in the center of the room.

Unsettled, Aramis wondered why Alex stared at him so. The child had remained quiet after his prior announcement that he had a great many things to tell them. What a boy of nine had to impart to the three of them was indeed a mystery since they had never laid eyes on the lad until Treville had introduced him.

Observing how uncomfortable d’Artagnan was making the marksman, he decided now would be the time to unburden himself. Slowly approaching the handsome Musketeer, d’Artagnan silently asked for permission to sit on the man’s lap. As he did so he laid his head on Aramis’ shoulder to whisper in his friend’s ear.

Porthos and Athos were quietly sipping their wine and were content to simply observe the lad for now. Therefore they were very alarmed at how pale Aramis grew. They then heard Aramis begin to mutter prayers and hold Alex tightly to him, rocking them both back and forth.

Athos especially was concerned when the only words coming from Aramis’ mouth were - _I was right_. Their marksman kept repeating that phrase like a mantra while tears poured down Aramis’ cheeks.

Placing a finger underneath Aramis’ quivering chin, d’Artagnan’s own eyes watered as well. Though he managed to hold his own tears at bay better than his brother. He put both of his hands on either side of Aramis’ face and patted the man’s cheeks gently. “I would do it again in a heartbeat,” d’Artagnan choked out softly and then he kissed Aramis gently on the forehead.

“Someone want ta tell us what in jolly hell is goin’ on?” Porthos growled. He hated being kept in the dark and it appeared that Aramis knew what was going on and didn’t share with his fellow brothers.

“I second that,” Athos agreed, eyes narrowing on the picture Aramis made with the petit garcon sitting on his lap.

Jumping off Aramis’ lap, d’Artagnan backed a few paces away from the table while letting Aramis compose himself.

Wiping his tears away on his sleeve, Aramis sniffed a few times and blinked red eyes at his two worried brothers. “Best if the lad tells the story, mon frères.”

Throwing up his hands in the air, Porthos glared at Aramis first and then at Alex. “Times a wastin', lad! Spit it out!”

“Perhaps we need to fortify ourselves with another glass of wine,” Athos suggested as he refilled his own empty one and that of Porthos’. Noting that Aramis declined a refill, Athos put the bottle back on the table.

“Athos... Porthos,” d’Artagnan swallowed a huge lump that had gathered in his throat, threatening to choke him anew, “both of you may find this hard to believe…”

“How could we when ya haven’t said a damn thing yet!” Porthos interrupted, drumming his fingers on the table impatiently.

Placing his hand on top of his brothers to still Porthos' agitated fingers, Athos spoke quietly. “Tis enough. We will wait until Alex is ready,” his blue eyes were kind as he watched the dark-skinned man roll his eyes. “Plus that noise gets on my nerves.” He noted Alex’ brown eyes light up in amusement at Athos’ jibe to his friend.

Complying with his brother, Porthos reached out for his glass of wine and downed its contents in one large gulp.

“Be careful, Porthos,” Alex warned. “Last time you took a swig like that you nearly choked to death.”

Hand frozen in mid-air as Porthos was about to place his glass back on the table, his eyes opened wide at the whelp’s statement. “How’d ya know about that?” Remembering how he had placed a bet on being able to out drink one of his fellow brothers and regretting it later after nearly choking on his lager, Porthos couldn't understand how the pup would know that.

Shrugging small shoulders, an impish smile broke out on d’Artagnan’s face. “I was there.”

“What game is this you are playing with us?” Athos wasn’t in the mood for childish humor. The lad said he had something to tell them and Athos trusted in Alex to tell them the truth.

“Remember, Athos, about hearing of King Louis’ near mishap in the palace,” d’Artagnan waited until his mentor acknowledged he had with a regal nod of his head. “I prevented that accident from happening.”

Knocking over his chair as he stood up, Athos’ face was turning red from the anger that was building up from within him. “You will stop this nonsense at once!” he demanded. “You were nowhere around either Porthos or the king!” He glanced over at Aramis and was curious as to the other man’s silence, preferring to let Alex hold the floor.

“The gifts that were left for you underneath King Louis’ Christmas tree were from me,” d’Artagnan admitted, going into great detail describing what the gifts were and for whom.

“They were left for us by our precious brother d’Artagnan,” Athos stated flatly, pain lacing his voice. He had the beginnings of a nagging headache trying to work its way between his eyes. Still not understanding how the child would know all of this. For Treville certainly wouldn't have bothered telling Alex about the gifts that were left to the three of them.

Tilting his head to the side, d’Artagnan sighed. They were stubborn these men he cherished. “Apparently you lot are not as bright as everyone claims,” he glanced over at Aramis and smiled sweetly, “except for Aramis because he already had his suspicions but kept them to himself."

Standing up beside Athos, Porthos bent down to be near eye level with the whelp. “Ya know tis a dangerous thing pullin’ a Musketeer’s tail, kid,” he spoke dangerously soft.

Holding out his hand to Aramis, d’Artagnan waited until the sharpshooter slowly got up from his chair to join him. Hands clasped tightly together, d’Artagnan then waited for a signal from Aramis. At the wink the older Musketeer gave him, d’Artagnan faced his other two brothers again. “ _I… am… d’Artagnan_.”

“That does it!” Porthos exclaimed. “The whelp’s gone daft in the ‘ead!”

“I did not know insanity ran in either side of Treville’s or d’Artagnan’s families,” Athos remarked dryly.

“The boy speaks the truth,” Aramis finally spoke up in defense of the youngster. “D'Artagnan explained it to me while he sat on my lap. How his sacrifice led to God giving the lad another chance at life.”

“Mis,” Porthos shook his head, “did ya ‘ave an accident inside that chapel earlier that I know nothin’ about? Cause you ain’t makin’ anymore sense than the kid here.”

“Told you they’d be hard nuts to crack,” d’Artagnan poked Aramis in the ribs.

"There are no nuts here ta be cracked," Porthos growled. "I think you two are the _nutty_ ones."

"What do I need to say to get you both to believe me?" d'Artagnan stared directly into Athos' cool blue eyes.

"Something from our past that only d'Artagnan would be privy too," Athos waited to see what the child would concoct this time around.

"Porthos is from the Court of Miracles," d'Artagnan announced. "He had a past relationship with Flea and his other friend, Charon, had plotted to blow up the Court." Noting Porthos' stunned face, d'Artagnan tacked on, "It ended with Charon's death as well," he stared unblinkingly at the larger Musketeer.

"Treville wouldn't a told the whelp any of that," Porthos was shocked at the boy's knowledge and now didn't know what to think. He wasn't overly religious, not like Aramis was. Porthos went to church but on the odd occasion. Heavenly events such as resurrections were only fairy tales as far as he was concerned... or they had been up til now.

"Comte de la Fere," d'Artagnan nearly snickered at the astonished look Athos now wore. His mentor looked like he had been hit right between the eyes. "Your younger brother, Thomas, was killed by your wife, Anne, who you then ordered hung," he held up a finger. "But you didn't linger to watch the sentence carried out and she escaped," d'Artagnan peeked out at Athos' white face from beneath the safety of his long bangs. "How am I doing so far?'

Finding his voice Athos said, "Amazingly accurate."

"I met her later under her assumed name of Milady not long after the death of my pere. She and I spent one night together where, come the morning, Milady tried to frame me for murder of the man she had been keeping company with," d'Artagnan stopped abruptly when Athos held up his hand. "Had enough?"

"More than actually," Athos retorted wryly. "I'm having a hard time wrapping my mind around all of this."

"Let's dig up d'Artagnan's grave and see if his body is still there," Porthos blurted out and then wished he could retract it after witnessing the horrified looks sent his way from both his friends.

Outraged, Athos grabbed Porthos by his doublet and shoved him hard against the wall. "You would dare such a sacrilege as to disturb our young ones last resting place?" Feeling a gentle tug on his arm, Athos glared at the small hand pulling on his sleeve.

"It wouldn't matter any longer, Athos," d'Artagnan's voice was calm. "I'm no longer there."

"I've been quiet up to now," Aramis spoke up. "But I believe what d'Artagnan's trying to convey to you is now that our lad's been blessed with a second chance at life his adult, mortal body ceased to exist."

"So you're sayin' d'Artagnan's grave is empty?" Porthos frowned upon hearing this piece of unsettling news. Though everything he had been listening too up til now had left him uneasy.

"Empty as your head sometimes is, mon ami," Aramis teased.

Falling to his knees before d'Artagnan, tears fell from Athos' eyes as reaching out he enfolded the lad into his arms. "Oh, mon garcon," he cried. "My sweet, precious d'Artagnan," Athos sobbed into the lad's shoulder as the child clung to him.

On his knees as well, Aramis' arms encircled d'Artagnan's small waist as he laid his head on top of the youngster's.

Lifting his head up, brown eyes liquid with tears, d'Artagnan shot a pleading look at Porthos. "Haven't shot melons off Aramis' head lately have you?"

Face crumpling at the whelp's words, Porthos too knelt down and squeezed his thick arms through the tangle of limbs. "I believe ya, kid."

After their combined tears had been shed, all of them finally composed themselves again. But this time d'Artagnan found himself sitting contently on Athos' lap.

"You'll be staying with Captain Treville from now on, lad?" Athos was verifying that as he thought upon the cover story that the captain and d'Artagnan had come up with. He knew his brothers would have to be careful there were no slip ups. Then again, even if there were, who would believe that d'Artagnan had come back from the dead?

"Oui," d'Artagnan nodded. "Captain Treville is going to learn how to be my pere and I think he'll make a fine one," then he smiled slyly.

"Why ya grinnin' like that for?" Porthos noted a calculated look behind d'Artagnan's eyes.

"I get to train all over again with the three of you," d'Artagnan beamed brightly at them.

"Tis a good thing we're still young enough to keep up with the pup," Aramis snorted.

"I don't know about Athos here," Porthos winked at the whelp. "He's gettin' a might long in the tooth ta be teachin' a youngin' like you, d'Artagnan."

"Athos is standing right here and can hear you quite well," Athos felt somewhat slighted as his face suffused with color. "I believe I can still make these old bones of mine keep up with d'Artagnan's youthful exuberance for awhile to come yet."

"And remember to call me Alex from now on when we are out in mixed company," d'Artagnan pointed out. "D'Artagnan is no more, but _Alex_ is alive and well," his eyes sparkled. "I'm so looking forward to getting my commission again. Though I know it will be many years until that can be attained."

Throwing his arms wide, and crushing his brothers to his side, Aramis looked at Athos and Porthos in turn. "Mon freres, I fear our lives may never be the same again."

The End


End file.
